Devious Debaters
by GardenWolf
Summary: The story of room 9111.
1. Prologue

Devious Debaters: The somewhat true story of room 1911; told from the minds of its occupants.

Disclaimer*: For the purposes of anonymity, the names and ages of all characters have been changed so as to better maintain relationships, continuity, and fluidity of the story.

-Prologue-

A larger than life figure emerged from her house. Silhouetted by the dark morning twilight. Groaning softly, she strode towards her car, a hand poised within her pocket, ever ready for one of those things to rear it's ugly hellish face in aggression against her. Hearing a slight rustling in the bushes near her, she made one horrible misstep by turning to acknowledge the dark presence, her recognition allowing the creature a means of perception by which to cause actual effect on the world. Realizing her mistake, she threw her body into a twist, facing the vile creature before stiffly raising a hand against it; her psychokinesis, channeling through her arm, directed itself towards the creature, causing it to begin seizing up until it finally died by means of asphyxiation.

"Damn. I hate Kreytos."

Having freshly killed the monster known as a Kreyto, the darkened figure walked further towards her vehicle before opening the door and getting in. Having entered the vehicle, she began backing out of her driveway before driving off towards the local High school, the only thing visible, a sign on the back of her car saying, 'Roxanne Norvah.'

Ms. Norvah walked through the doors of Fairchild High School, cloaked in a black trench coat so as to shield her from the rain outside. A soft pounding upon the roof of the school could be heard throughout the building as Ms. Norvah walked down the main hall, searching for the corridor in which her new class room resided. She mumbled to herself, remembering the roster she was given that displayed the names of all her future students, particularly those who were going to be in her debate class.

"Hm. Rook Thatcher. Veronica Stone. James Shipton. Morganna Thurwood. Cain Lupus. Jeremy Black. Gary Whitman. Elizabeth Proctor. Marianne Stocktoe. Theresa Voe."

She thought deeply about the names, subconsciously placing little bets to herself in regards to which of the freshmen would, fit into which psychological category; drop her class first; and cause the most trouble for her. She was pulled forcefully from her trance as a young boy ran past her, almost running into her. A look of disdain came across her face as she almost called after him but decided that he probably wasn't the kind of person with enough tact to apologize for his wrong-doings.

And so, she continued walking until she arrived at her new room, 1911. She unlocked the door before slowly walking in, turning the lights on, and setting her things down on the large desk at the corner of the room. Now, being a very particular, and orderly kind of person, Ms. Norvah began moving the tables around the room into the most orderly possible positions before turning back to her own desk and beginning to arrange all of her things into well kept drawers and shelves. This task was continued with until a knock was heard at the door. Somewhat surprised at the sudden noise, Ms. Norvah turned to look at the door before giving permission for the intruder to enter.

At her permission, a curious young boy walked into her room. He was slightly taller than average, quite tan, and had different colored eyes; one blue, and one green. As he entered her room, he walked up to her desk, attempting to be non-imposing, before extending a hand in salutations for her to shake.

"Uh. Um. H-hello Ma'am. My name is Rook Thatcher and I'm in your fifth period Debate class and I just wanted to introduce myself to you before the day formally starts with fifth period. I hope that's okay."

Ms. Norvah smiled in response before grasping his hand and looking up to speak back with a, "Well it's nice to meet you Rook. I look forward to teaching you in class."

Rook regained a considerable amount of confidence at her response, leading him to smile back, uttering a soft "It's nice to meet you too" before exiting her room, and going back to the commons.

Ms. Norvah watched him leave before going back to organizing her desk, the thought of Rook Thatcher bouncing around in her mind causing her to wish that all of her students would end up being that respectful, courteous, and well mannered.

Unfortunately for Ms. Norvah, the students will prove themselves to be a little more... Devious.


	2. Rook 1

That same morning, a boy awoke from a nightmare, having been plagued by visions of hell beyond and the eternal nightmare of another place. In a horrible cold sweat, he thrust himself out of bed, mouth agape, and gasping for air. Resting for a slight moment, he looked around his room to see an absence of any threat, and after confirming his solitariness in the room, resigned to simply take a deep breath before shakily removing himself from his room and walking down the creaking stairs of his home and down to the living area of his home.

"Wh-what was that?"

Going to the couch, he picked up a set of clothes that he had laid out the night before, slowly putting them on before walking to the entrance way of his home and grabbing a backpack with a tag on the back. That tag read "Property of Rook Thatcher."

Upon exiting his house and walking to the curb of his street, he began surveying the area around himself, feeling as if some presence was just around the corner, watching him. After a moment of this suspense, he began looking for something else; another young boy who usually met him at the bus. He wondered where the other boy was, delving into thought as to what may have happened to him. His thought was interrupted, however, as he felt an acute heat up against his neck as well as a sharp growling. Natural reaction took over as the boy turned around quickly to see a hulking figure looming over him. He blinked. It was gone. Fear creeping into his inner mind, he began shuffling backwards in retreat, jumping up and offering a frightened yelp as he fell back into the road; his bus stopping quickly and honking loudly. Embarrassed, Rook scrambled onto the bus to ride it up to his new school to begin his freshman year.

As Rook entered Fairchild High School, he reached a tan, slender hand into his pocket, retrieving the schedule that he had been mailed earlier that summer. His fingers gripped the neatly folded yellow paper, slowly pulling it from his pocket before unfolding it and looking to his assigned classes, English, Math, History, Science, Debate, Gym, and Music. The fifth period debate class caught his eye, transfixing him and taking his attention away from the rest of the hall, when suddenly he felt a force push against his side, knocking him to the ground. With a sickening thud, Rook hit the ground and blacked out for just a moment before coming to his senses just fast enough to yell at the figure that was running away.

"Hey! You should really watch where you're going!"

After getting up and dusting himself off, Rook irritably pushed his hands into his pockets once more only to find a note hastily scribbled and crumpled up, in place of where he had stored a twenty dollar bill earlier that morning. The note read, "Hey. You're kind of an unlucky little fuck, aren't you? Oh uh, sorry for running into you and shit, I'll pay you back for the twenty later." Rook threw the note into the trash can before mumbling to himself.

"Just great... Today's going to suck already, I can tell."

Muttering those words, Rook remembered the schedule in his hands, his focus being brought back to that same class in room 9111. Almost as if not even by his own volition, Rook began walking towards the area of the school where he knew that room number would probably be. After a few minutes of searching, Rook arrived at a solid oak door; the only indication of the room's occupancy being the distinctive yellow glow from in between the tile flooring and the door. Gulping slowly, Rook knocked on the door of the room, only to be ushered in by a kind sounding "Come In." He walked in and froze for a moment before introducing himself to the teacher whom he later learned to be known as Ms. Norvah. She seemed normal, but still kind and motherly, and so Rook didn't quite know what exactly beckoned him towards the room, only that something did. After leaving, he walked back towards the commons of the high school only to arrive at any almost empty table. With a smile, Rook sat down across from the other and smiled as cordially as he could before uttering a few simple words.

"Hey there. I'm Rook. How are you?"

His introduction was met with a slight glare, then a sigh, and finally a meek yet sassy response.

"Um. I'm Veronica Stone... Oh and don't try bothering to hit on me if that's what you're doing. You're not my type... Sorry."

Rook met her with a kindhearted laugh, not having any intentions of trying to woo or seduce or otherwise persecute the girl.

"Oh hehe. You don't need to worry about me. I just want to be friends. You know?"

Just then the bell rung to begin the day and Rook Thatcher said his goodbyes to his new acquaintance before hurrying off to his first period English class. As he walked off and finally into his class, he got his desk assignment and went to sit next to a particular someone that he had 'run into' earlier that morning. Rook muttered to himself at seeing that pale boy with the long white hair again.

"Forgive my language, but Hell No, Biatch."

But for some reason, seeing the white haired boy made Rook remember something from earlier that morning. He remembered a precarious feeling that he had had earlier that morning as if someone was watching him. It was a feeling so powerful, that seeing the boy, he felt the need to immediately turn and look behind him so as to guard from some imaginary threat that would otherwise tear his own existence from the world. Resisting the urge to look behind him, to spare himself from seeing whatever atrocity lurked behind him, waiting in anticipation to attack, he took a few deep breaths and calmly took his seat, directing his attention to the front of the class so as to occupy himself with anything other than the thought of that wretched boy seated next to him.


End file.
